


No Way In, No Way Out

by liberty_rose



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Cutting, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberty_rose/pseuds/liberty_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray had been locked away in padded rooms since he was young, Gavin was just starting his career as a nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Room 115 of the Austin Psychiatric Center had been occupied by the same boy for five years. The day he turned eighteen, Ray Narvaez Jr had been committed and hadn’t left since. Over the years doctors had tried to diagnose him, tried to fit him into one of their categories. But he didn’t belong to any of them. No one had ever been able to put a label on what was wrong with him.  
When he was young the other children ran away from him. He didn’t see things the same way they did. Everything was twisted in ways that a child should not understand. But Ray understood; he saw the evil in and outside of the world. He was ten when people started whispering behind their hands about the crazy boy that saw and heard things. He didn’t notice them, though; the people who’d look away when he was near or those who’d stop talking as soon as he entered the room. He was too lost in his world to care what went on in theirs.

His mother had tried her best to help him be a normal child, but by that time he was already too far gone. She couldn’t abandon him until he was of age, so she did all she could to hide him from the outside world. As soon as she could, she filled out the paper work, dropped him off, and never looked back. She had whispered ‘happy birthday’ and kissed his forehead; that was the last he had seen of her.

Ray didn’t mind being locked away. His mind came up with new things to see and hear every day. New wonders and new horrors to keep him entertained. Sometimes he would fall too deep into the things his brain created and lose all sense of reality. He’d go for days on end in his imaginary world, yelling nonstop or refusing to say a word. Some days he wouldn’t leave his room and others he would claw at the walls trying to get away from the visions in his head.

There weren’t very many people his own age in the hospital. Most of the other patients on his floor were middle aged. He limited his social interactions to the required fifteen minutes a day of random activities; during that time, he sat with a pretty woman in her thirties. He’d sat with her every day for four years and still didn’t know her name. She taught him how to paint the things he saw.

Once, she had explained that she’d lost her child in an accident, but she just knew that child’s soul had been put into Ray and sent just for her. After the fifteen minutes of mandatory activity were over, she’d pat his cheek and smile before they parted ways. In his head, Ray began to call her Mom. She showed him the only affection he received and wasn’t scared away by the frightful things in his mind.

When Ray walked in to the activity hall one Wednesday afternoon, he immediately knew something was off. Mom was always sitting at the round table by the plexi-glass window on the left side of the room. But today, she wasn’t there. He wandered to their usual table and dropped down into his chair. The tiny pots of paint, stack of paper, jar of water, and paintbrushes were where they always were, but the woman who had shown him how to use them was no where to be seen.

He scooted a sheet of paper closer to him and picked up a brush. Without looking at the color, he dipped the bristles into paint and smeared it across the blank surface. It was light green. He didn’t like the way the pale color looked against its white background. He tried another color, this time blue. Very carefully, he layered the color over top its predecessor. The wet paints swirled together, blending to create a new color. He picked another random color and added it: gray. He didn’t have a name for this shade of blue/green/gray. He looked up to ask Mom, only to remember that she wasn’t there. He twisted in his seat to scan the room.

"She’s not comin’." Ray turned to face the voice; it belonged to a man who looked to be about fifty. "Her room’s right next to mine. I saw ‘em wheel her away this mornin’." He wheezed out a harsh laugh.

Every bone in Ray’s body seemed to melt, leaving him slumped over in the hard plastic chair. Everyone knew what being ‘wheeled out’ meant. If they carried you out of your room on a gurney, it would be the last trip you made down the halls of the Austin Psychiatric Center. It meant you had finally checked out for good. It meant you were gone.

He stood from his chair and gathered up the paints spread out before him. He staggered across the room, the paint spilling down the front of his plain white shirt. His knees were shaking so badly that he could barely hold himself up.

He should have been able to recognize when an attack was about to overtake him, but they still took him by surprise every time. His chest tightened causing his breath to come out in quick, shallow rasps. His head swam in a haze, but through it he could see the floor begin to crack. Dark lines tore the carpet apart, leaving behind jagged crevices.

One of the gaps started to creep towards him in an attempt to swallow him up. Ray stumbled backwards, tripping over a chair and falling to the floor. The paints hit the ground and smashed to pieces. Colors merged together around him, dripping into the ever growing chasms which ripped the floor apart. He scrambled away from the holes, hands slick with paint.

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the inevitable fall. As the fissure widened he felt himself drop into the nothingness. The sensation of falling made his stomach float. He screamed as he plummeted down, refusing to open his eyes for fear of what he might see.

Ray couldn’t say how long it had been since the initial plunge, it may have been seconds, but then again, it could have been hours. Regardless of how much time had passed, he was pulled from the drop by a slight pressure on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and darted around. 

Before him knelt a man who looked as if he had only just stopped being a boy; he had his hand firmly on Ray’s shoulder. “Hey. Look at me, it’s okay.” He spoke with a lilting accent, his voice low and soft. “Let’s get you back to your room.” He offered a small smile. “What’s your room number?”

It took a moment for Ray to register the fact that he had been asked a question. Of course he knew his room number, he had been in the same room for five years. But the words would not form in his mouth. He just blinked up at the man who he now noticed wore a set of gray-blue scrubs. The name badge clipped to his breast pocket showed a picture of him and his name, identifying him as Gavin Free.

With no reply from Ray, Gavin simply smiled once more and led him to the nurses station. “Kara, can you tell me what room he’s in?” he nodded his head towards Ray.

"Of course." the blonde woman behind the computer said sweetly, her fingers moving over the keyboard. "Mr. Narvaez is in room 115."

"Thanks, Kara." Gavin guided Ray down the hallway to his room. "Look at you. You look like you’ve dipped your hands in a rainbow." He said as he glanced down at Ray’s paint covered appendages. 

The two men stopped in front of the door labeled ‘115’. Gavin slid the card attached to a little cord at his pocket through the scanner. The lock beeped and the light flashed green. He pushed the door open, letting Ray enter before him.

"We should get you cleaned up." Gavin shut the door behind him, the lock whirring into place once more.

The tiny adjoining bathroom held a shower with a shallow floor, a toilet, a sink, and a shatter proof mirror. Gavin had already twisted the taps on the sink and adjusted the water to a suitable temperature when Ray peeked around the door frame.

"Well, come on." Another smile had Ray stepping forward. "You’re a right mess." Gavin laughed.

The sound made Ray relax slightly; so few people laughed in the hospital. Not genuine laughs, at least. The deranged cackles that filled the air were common, but light-hearted chuckles were few and far between.

He did as asked and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Gavin, by the way. I just started working here.” Gavin took Ray’s left hand and stuck it under the faucet.

Watching the paint swirl down the sink with the water made Ray a little sad. Mom had always taught him not to waste the paint, and that was exactly what he was doing. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. He didn’t look in it often, but when he did, he never looked the same as before.

His dark hair was cut close to his head and his brown eyes had lost their shine long ago. His pale skin showed no hint of his Puerto Rican parentage. He had lost even more weight but his bones still didn’t show. It’d be a lie to say he looked healthy, but it could be worse.

Ray watched himself lift his right hand to his cheek and smudge color like warpaint over the bone. “Hey, we’re trying to get this off, not smear it around.” Gavin still smiled, though it could be said that it was is job to be patient with people, Ray had a feeling that he was just a nice person.

The now clean hand was exchanged for the still dirty one and scrubbed of its paint. Gavin wet a small towel and took a step closer to the paint splattered boy. He rubbed away the paint with the damp cloth.

Standing this close, Ray could see the precise way the other man’s dark brownish-blonde hair stuck up every which way. He could see the exact color of his eyes, though he could not put a name to it. It reminded him of the new color he had made. A whirl of grays, greens, and blues swirling about within the tiny space. Gold pooled close to the pupil, almost looking like sun. He watched the different shades dance. In his head, he named his new color Gavin.

"There." Gavin announced once he was finished cleaning the smudge from Ray’s cheek. "Good as new. Well, I best get going."

A blink was the only response Ray gave, but it must have been enough because Gavin grinned and left. Ray stared after him for a moment before walking into his room and sitting on the bed. It wasn’t particularly late, but he was tired. 

He tugged his filthy shirt over his head and stared at the pattern left behind by his earlier fall. The white cotton had been stained with every imaginable hue. He glanced down at his bare chest and stomach, noticing patches of discolored skin. He didn’t remember getting the bruises and scratches, but as he poked at the tender, yellowing flesh he found they were the exact size of his fingertips. He prodded his ribs where the worst of the damage was, it looked like he had tried to remove his own heart, yet he had no memory of ever doing such a thing.

Ray stretched out on top of the blankets, his hands still pushing against the damaged flesh. Through the skin, his pulse reached out to touch his fingers. A steady beat like a drum hammering through his veins. The rhythmic pounding was soothing, and soon, he found himself drifting off into his usual nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

Gavin had only just started working at the hospital. He wasn’t ready to deal with any major problems, yet that was what he had just done. When a man probably no older than him, collapsed, instinct kicked in and he rushed to his side. He felt like he could have done something more to help him, all he had done was wipe off some paint. He didn’t even know his first name.  
"Hey, Kara. Could I have room 115’s file?" Gavin asked, leaning against the nurses station desk.

"Of course." The blonde pushed against the floor, her wheeled chair moving to the file cabinet a little ways away.

She flicked through the files before extracting the correct one. She slid the manila envelope across the desk to Gavin. He picked it up and quickly opened it to the first page. The first thing he took note of was that the young man was called Ray and he was twenty-three years old, just two years younger than Gavin. He had been admitted to the APC when he eighteen, meaning he had been living in the hospital for five years already.

The thing that Gavin was most curious about was the reason for Ray’s admittance, but when he found the page where the information should be, he was sorely disappointed. Under Diagnosis the doctors had written very little.

Mr. Narvaez displays symptoms that we have not yet been able to connect with any specific illness. At times he seems alert and is well behaved, other times he screams and shuts himself in his room. Since we have yet to diagnose him, we have decided to call it general insanity and prescribe a mid-level dose of Xanax to calm him.

That was all. Just a blurb about occasional outbursts and a prescription to sedate them. No specifics or answers, just vague remarks. Gavin found the lack of actual diagnosis oddly infuriating. It was the doctors job to find out what was wrong and fix it, but it had been five years and they still couldn’t say just what made Ray act the way he did.

Gavin didn’t know why he was getting so upset over someone who he had only just met. It could be because Ray was the only patient he had met who was any where close to his own age. But the real reason, whether Gav knew it or not, was that Ray was different. He hadn’t babbled on or screeched while clawing at the air, he had only stared. Behind those dark eyes there was undoubtedly intelligence, though it was hidden behind the fading drug induced haze.

Gavin shook his head as he closed the folder. At least he knew who he had helped, if nothing else about him.

"Is that all we have on him?" He asked the young nurse.

"I’m afraid so. Dr. Latimore has been seeing Mr. Narvaez since he arrived and he says that if it weren’t for the things he says and a screaming fit every now and again, there’d be no way to know there was anything wrong. Oh!" Kara perked up, a thought suddenly entering her mind. "I just remembered, Dr. Latimore recorded one of their sessions." She pulled a USB drive from a small drawer. "You can use the laptop in the break room."

"Thanks, Kara." Gavin smiled as he accepted the small device.

He made his way to the break room, eyeing the piece of plastic in his hand. When doctors recorded sessions it meant that they had exhausted every other option. They would listen to the recording over and over again, hoping to pick up something they had missed before. It seldom worked, but still they tried.

He pushed open the door to the break room and peered in to see if anyone was inside. He was relieved to find it empty. Gavin fell into the computer chair in front of the laptop. It was an archaic machine made of black, bulky plastic and thick keys. It took a while for the contraption to boot up and he tapped his foot impatiently as the desktop flickered into existence. He shoved the USB into the slot which spurred on another session of waiting.

When at last the little box popped up showing the data stored within the drive, Gavin was quick to find the file labeled “Narvaez-115-1”. Double clicking the icon made a new window pop up, which of course meant another ten minutes of waiting. After the wait, which seemed to drag on forever, Gavin clicked the play button. The voice which filtered through the speakers was unfamiliar.

"Dr. Robert Latimore, November 8th, 2012." So this session wasn’t one held recently. "Mr. Narvaez, thank you for allowing me to record our little talk today." The sound of papers shuffling filled the speakers. "I see you had an attack yesterday, can you tell me what happened?"

The crackle of empty air was the only response that Ray gave. Dr. Latimore cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened." Gavin rolled his eyes, that was the one line every doctor used; he probably wouldn’t be able to help even if he knew. "Work with me Ray. I’ve been seeing you for four years, you can trust me."

"I saw eyes." The voice was surprisingly soft, the words holding an almost melodic intonation.

"Eyes? What kind of eyes?" Dr. Latimore asked, his pen scratching rapidly against paper.

"Red ones." Ray was keeping his answers short.

"What were the red eyes doing?" Gavin rolled his own eyes once more; what could eyes do? They only had one function.

"Just staring." And that was the one function.

"The eyes were staring at you? Why did that scare you?" Dr. Latimore asked.

"They weren’t staring at me; they were staring into me." Ray’s already quiet voice dropped to an almost imperceptible volume.

"Like at your soul?" The question seemed almost disbelieving.

"No. At my insides." Ray cleared his throat, the sound coming off as n nervous gesture than anything out of necessity. "My heart." Ray’s voice held no emotion; he sounded neither sad nor scared, only empty. "Sometimes, they stared so hard that my heart stopped for a little bit."

"Did it hurt?" Dr. Latimore seemed to be in the habit of asking obvious questions.

"Yes." Ray whispered.

"Just one more question, Ray, and then you can go." Sessions were often as short as possible to cause the patients the least amount of stress. "How did you get the eyes to go away?"

"Mom told me they weren’t going to hurt me and that if they tried, she’d save me." Ray murmured.

The recording clicked off and the speakers went dead. Gavin grabbed the folder containing Ray’s information and flipped through it quickly in search of any reference to his mother. He couldn’t find a single mention of his family other than the signature at the bottom of his admittance paper. He scanned the box reserved for permitted visitors, but it was empty. No one had been to visit Ray in five years. Gavin’s heart squeezed painfully at the thought of not seeing his family for five entire years.

There weren’t very many files on the drive, about seven, but only one other seemed relevant. It was labeled “Narvaez-115-2”. Gavin clicked it and waited anxiously for the file to load. This time it was a picture. It was a painting clearly done in the hand of someone who practiced. The lines were thick but it was easy to distinguish their shape. Black curved lines connected to create sort of pointed ellipse. The shape was filled in with red, smudges of black and white on top. They were unmistakably eyes; Ray must have painted the eyes that stared at him. They unnerved Gavin, even if they were only just a looking at him from a computer screen.

He pulled the USB out of its slot, pocketing the tiny device to leave his hands free to shuffle through the file which he had already read. He was hoping to catch something he didn’t see before that would give some indication that Ray had family somewhere that visited him.

Gavin had closed the file by the time he returned to the nurses station. “Kara, do you know anything about Mr. Narvaez’s family?”

Kara looked up from the computer screen, eyes already sad. “They don’t visit him. I was here when they dropped him off. I had only been working for about a month when they came in. His mother was jittery, like she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. At first I hadn’t thought much of it, just that she was stressed, but she told him happy birthday and left. When I looked in his file a few weeks later, I found out that the day she brought him was his eighteenth birthday. We told him that he could check himself out whenever he wanted to since he was legally an adult and was not deemed dangerous, but he either didn’t understand or didn’t want to leave because he’s still here five years later.” Kara sighed and blinked quickly like she was fighting back tears.

Gavin stood in stunned silence for a moment, trying to soak in the information. “But on the recording he mentioned his mother.”

Kara shook her head. “No, he mention Mom. She was one of our patients here who spent everyday with Ray, teaching him how to paint and talking to him.”

"Was a patient?" He asked, afraid of the answer before the question left his lips.

"She passed away last night, I think that’s what upset him earlier." Kara offered a sad smile. "She was the only one he would talk to outside of his therapy."

Gavin thought back on what happened that morning. The way Ray had clung to the pots of paint and looked so upset when it was rinsed down the drain. It clicked in Gavin’s mind then, the way Ray had fallen into an emotionless state. He had lost the one person who he had any connection with.

Deep in Gavin’s stomach, a knot twisted. He had always been quick to sympathize and worry about other people, it was one of the main reasons he chose to become a nurse. His brain was already buzzing with different ways to help Ray as he headed home for the night, relinquishing his duties to the night shift.


	3. Chapter 3

The double knock that awoke Ray was unfamiliar. Usually, when the blonde nurse came to wake him up, she knocked four times very quickly. But the knocks this morning were slow and loud. The electronic lock whirred softly and clicked, allowing the door to swing open.  
It was a surprise to see a grinning face appear in the doorway, followed immediately by the a thin, lanky body; Gavin. “Hey, Ray!” He said, an ever present smile curving his lips. “These are for you.” In his hands were two paper cups; one filled with water and the other containing two white pills.

Ray took the small cups, emptying the pills into his mouth and washing them down with water like he had been doing every day for nearly five years. Gavin took the now empty cups back.

"Are you coming out to activity time? The nurses said if you didn’t want to go today it’d be fine." Actually, Gavin had begged Kara to let Ray have the day off, and she had only relented because he blocked her way into the bathroom.

Ray shook his head, crossing his arms tightly over his bony chest. He wanted to say something to thank Gavin for what he did the previous night, but he couldn’t form the words in his mind or in his mouth.

"Alright, I brought this for you. Kara told me that you like to paint." Gavin opened a bag which Ray hadn’t noticed before. He pulled from it a pot of blue paint, a brush, and a small stack of paper. "Don’t tell anyone I’m giving you this, because I’m not technically allowed to." His grin widened.

Ray took the art supplies and clutched them close to his chest. No one had ever paid any mind to the things that interested him unless they were trying to diagnose him, yet Gavin had taken the time to find out what he liked and make sure he could still do them, even without Mom.

"Well, I’ll see you later, okay?" Of course, Gavin smiled as he walked from the room, the door locking behind him.

Ray stared at the grey, metal panel for a while longer before moving to sit on his bed. He spread out his new supplies before him. Residents of the APC weren’t allowed to have anything in their rooms beside the standard, regulation commodities. They had mirrors that wouldn’t break, sheets that couldn’t be taken off the bed without special equipment, and various other safety protocols in order.

He wasted no time in dipping the paint brush into the paint and dragging it across the blank paper. The blue popped so brightly against its background that he didn’t feel the need to plan his motions, he simply swirled the brush around in nonsensical spirals. The shapes took no definite form, but he still found them mesmerizing. He painted until he came to the very last piece of paper. 

He had been working for nearly an hour when he dipped the brush into the jar and swiped it across the paper only to see a faint blue smudge. Ray stared at the ghost of color before glancing to the pot of paint; it was empty. He lifted it close to his face and peered into the small container as if he could find more paint if only he looked harder. But, of course, he couldn’t find any more; it was all gone.

In a fit of anger he hurled the jar across the room where it shattered against the wall, shards of glass hitting the ground with an almost musical chorus of chimes. He stared at the glittering mess on the tiles, light from the barred window catching each fragment and making them shine. 

Ray slowly uncurled his legs from where they had been tucked beneath him, his toes touching the cold, tiled floor. He cautiously kneeled next to the broken pot, reaching out to grab a large piece of glass. The sharp edges bit into his fingers, making him drop it quickly. He stared at his hand, little red droplets weeping from the cuts.

The color transfixed him, the way it caught the light. The way each drop left a scarlet trail in its wake as it dripped down his hand. Experimentally, he pressed his fingers against his stomach. When he pulled them away, red streaks decorated the white fabric of his t-shirt. A slow smile spread across his face, brightening his usually dark eyes. 

He took a piece of glass in hand and drug it across his palm, the blood surging to the surface. But it wasn’t enough. It was barely a line of color, he couldn’t do anything with it. So his next move was to slide the shard of glass up his forearm, from wrist to elbow. The blood poured from the wound in beautiful, crimson rivers.

Ray dipped the fingers from his other hand in his new paint and slid them over the tiles in front of him. The colors were in such stunning contrast with each other that he nearly laughed out of pure joy. He smeared the color around, creating the most beautiful picture he had ever seen.

He couldn’t say exactly how long he had been painting before he began to feel dizzy. It wasn’t the normal, drug induced spin he often experienced. It was a slow building swirl of movement, filling his head with a faint humming. It almost pleasant, the way things seemed to slow down. Even the paint began to drip rather than flow. Still, he had enough.

Ray laid down, his cheek pressed against the cold laminate. He picked an empty tile and began to draw new lines on it. His fingers moved in practiced motions, each line and curve familiar to him. Each flare of the petals was worn into his brain; he could have probably recreated it in his sleep. By the time he was done with master piece, everything was moving in strange ways. The floor warped beneath him, but he didn’t mind. It was almost like the gentle rocking of a boat. As he stared at the flower he painted, he smiled.

—————————————————-

Gavin was making his rounds back through the rooms to check on the patients. He reached room 115 and grinned; he had known Ray for less than two whole days, but he still liked the man. Gav slid the key card through the reader and waited until the click told him he could enter. As he stepped through the door, he heart stopped.

Ray was lying on the ground, blood pooled under his arm and slowly spreading. There were pictures painted all around him. They would have been beautiful had they not been painted in the same stuff that was still dripping from Ray’s arm. He ran to the man, falling to his knees beside him.

"Ray!" He shouted, placing his hand in front of the other mans mouth.

Soft puffs of air were still passing from between his lips, but they were slowing down quickly. Ray glanced up at Gavin through half lidded eyes, his lips curving at the edges ever so slightly.

"Thank you." His voice was soft, barely there. 

He raised the arm that wasn’t bleeding and pointed to tile between him and Gavin. The nurses eyes fell to painting; even through it was all one color and smudged slightly from where his knee had touched it, it was easy to tell what it was.

"Got a rose." Ray murmured. "Game over."


End file.
